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<title>Final Entry by Krees</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378161">Final Entry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krees/pseuds/Krees'>Krees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Diary/Journal, Gen, Original Fiction, Regret</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:29:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378161</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krees/pseuds/Krees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Final journal entry of a dying man</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Final Entry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You lose track of time, as the years go by. I could have sworn my last entry in this journal was ten years ago. Fifteen, at most. In truth it has been almost four times that. I used to write about everything. People I met, places I visited, anything that stood out and was new or exciting, every milestone I reached in my training. The day I accepted an apprentice. I can see the length between entries grow longer as time goes by until they just… stop. </p><p>A long life makes for infrequent milestones, it seems. </p><p>Looking back at the beginning, it seems I started this to impress someone, a girl. I doubt she will be the one to read this, however.</p><p>Returning to these pages, reading over the last few entries, I realise that had I kept to this journal and learned from it could have prevented the need for this entry entirely. My final entry. My confession. </p><p>My thoughts wander now, wondering what exactly to say with the little time I have remaining. I must be concise, direct.</p><p>I failed you.</p><p>If the person reading this is who I believe it will be, you will know what is meant by that statement. I made a promise to you, many years ago, that night in the rain. I did not forget, despite how it may have seemed. I did what I could. It was not enough.</p><p>I will not ask for forgiveness I do not deserve. I will face this as I faced all hardships, all challenges - directly, with a willingness to see which of us would break first. You lamented this habit of mine often, I remember, even as we grew apart over the decades, as I broke myself on the many dangers a man of my profession must confront.</p><p>You have seen first hand the results of my failure. </p><p>And even worse, in failing to keep that promise I started a war. All the pain and bloodshed, the deaths, could be fairly laid at my feet. And yet, I cannot find it in me to feel the guilt I should over that. I did the right thing, and even as my last breath draws closer I cannot see myself ever making another choice. Had it not been for traitors in our midst, it might even have worked- no. Even with them working against us, it was still I who made the choice. Who wielded the knife. </p><p>Again, I will not ask for forgiveness I do not deserve. </p><p>Despite our estrangement, or perhaps because of it, I find myself worrying for you. You will have the inclination to defy those who would ensnare you in the web of conflicts and lies they have woven, of that there is no question. The recent pressure upon you has shown your true colours, for those that still had their doubts.</p><p>But I find myself asking, will you have the strength? I can only hope. Hope that I did enough as your master and teacher, all those years ago. That I gave you the tools and mentality you would need to survive what is yet to come. That I did not start you on a path that would lead you to following in my footsteps too soon.</p><p>Perhaps there had been another way. Perhaps not. It is possible that, had I not taken you as a student, I would have survived the coming conflict. I am sure these thoughts will cross your mind as they have mine. If they do, you should know it does not matter. I have borne the fear of many and brought what small light to the darkness I could. I have no regrets in this - I can say that without hesitation. And I do not regret the decision to take you in. It is, in fact, the best decision I ever made.</p><p>I only wish I had done better by you. </p><p>Yours in death as in life,</p>
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